A piercing winter wind whips through the streets of Evershoal as Fred makes his way through the Terraces, seemingly oblivious to the hustle and bustle around him of city-goers preparing to celebrate the new year. As has become all too common of late, he finds himself in a trance of sorts, reflecting upon the events of the days prior. The soft crunch of snow beneath his boots draws his mind back to a few nights earlier when the first snowfall of the year had blanketed the city, bringing a flood of bad memories with it.
He finds himself once again in that dark, dank chamber below the Docks, mutilated corpses and gore-spattered stonework splayed out before him. At the center of it all stands a colossal humanoid statue, blood ominously seeping out of its eyes, streaming down its jade hued face and body. It eerily slashes at his companions with elongated limbs and sharpened claws, unyielding as it draws the life force from their bodies to bolster its own. In all his days he had never seen such a nightmarish thing, and a chill crept down his spine at the recollection of it.
His daydream, or perhaps nightmare would be more apt, is interrupted as he reaches the entrance of his destination, the Temple of Avandra. He passes through the large stone archway, entering a courtyard with a massive open-air pavilion at its center, circular in shape and surrounded by ornate ionic columns at its borders. Laid out in a 3/4ths circle surrounding the pavilion are a series of smaller buildings, each of which has a stonework pathway connecting it to the central structure.
Carved upon the ceiling of the pavilion is a stunning painted mural that depicts scenes that capture the essence of Avandra’s ideals. From adventurers facing down fearsome foes to settlers traveling to lands unknown to caravans exchanging goods to prisoners shattering their shackles, no better place exemplifies the progress and ever-changing nature of the world. At the center of this pavilion stands a sculpture capturing the likeness of the goddess herself, looking up at the mural with an expression of warm pride.
As temple goers rush back and forth between the various structures, Fred enters the central pavilion. Catching sight of Priestess Crystallantern as she goes about her duties, he approaches her and says, “Head Priestess, I apologize for interrupting your duties, but could you by chance show me where the twins are staying?”
Setting down an artifact she’s in the process of arranging into a display, Crystallantern turns toward Fred. Her eyebrows furrow for a moment before a look of recognition comes over her face. “Ah yes, you’re one of Erzsi’s companions that came by a few nights ago. We’ve been keeping the two in a private room while they recover. The sister has made good progress, but the brother isn’t in the best condition, I’m sorry to say. I’ll have an acolyte show you to them.”
Having given his thanks to Crystallantern, Fred is led to one of the small outer buildings. Within, a half-unconscious Maxwell lays bandaged on a cot, still recovering from the confrontation with Meles. Sitting at his side with her legs crossed is Minerva who, though seemingly preoccupied with a book, carries an unwavering air of caution and alertness about her. As Fred enters the room, her eyes snap towards him, fixing him with a searing gaze. After a moment, they soften slightly with a look of recognition. “Ah…Mr. Tolms. I’d say I’m surprised to see you here, but…your kind rarely keeps their nose out of other’s affairs, don’t they?”, she says in a deadpan tone.
Brushing off the bristly comment, Fred grabs a chair and positions it a polite distance from the twins. Taking a seat, he produces his pipe and begins to pack it before Minerva interjects with a cough. “Oh, I apologize; force of habit. Probably not the best thing to do around someone in recovery”, Fred says in a sheepish tone before pocketing his pipe. Powering through the awkward air, he continues, “Well, I’m glad to see you’re back on your feet, Minerva. I assume they’re treating the both of you well?”
Putting down her book, Minerva recrosses her legs, turning her full attention towards Fred. “I don’t remember ever giving you my name, Mr. Tolms”, she says, letting the words hang for a moment. “I suppose it hardly matters, though. The service is far from what I would consider good, but given our prior circumstances, I suppose it’s tolerable.” Her face takes on a more serious expression as she continues, “Now, if I may cut to the chase, what exactly are you here for? Last time we spoke you suffocated me with questions, and taking an educated guess, I assume you’re here to ask more?”
“You’ve caught me”, Fred replies goods-spiritedly before growing more candid. “I came to ask both of you a handful of questions, but before we get to that, I’d like to clear the air. My name isn’t Murlock Tolms, it’s Frederick, Frederick Krakuul; Tolms is just an alias I use on the job.” Seeing Minerva scrutinize the words, he continues, “I’m sayin’ this because I want to be as honest as possible in the hopes that you’ll do the same. I’m not expecting your life’s story, but I’d like it if you at least entertained what I have to ask. You do that, and I promise I’ll do my best to keep you out of the crossfire of what’s happening with your father.”
Contemplating the words, she closes her eyes for a moment and sighs. “You saved my brother. I appreciate that more than you know, and I will tell you what I can, even if that isn’t much.”
Producing a notebook along with his spectacles, Fred says, “Alright, I’ll try to make this as painless as possible. Let’s start with the big question: is there anything you can tell me about your father’s plans? Even if the info is outdated, any little bit could make a difference.”
Sighing again, Minerva replies, “I figured you would start there. As far as Max and I know, Father’s plans are much like they’ve always been. He’s always made decisions based on whatever will win him money, power, or influence. If he carries any motivations outside of those, he hasn’t made them clear.”
Scribbling down the info, Fred responds, “Yeah that checks out with what I’ve heard of him.” Continuing on, he says, “Alright, next up. Who is Kallista Kane, and what exactly does she do for your father? I understand she’s some kind of financial advisor, but I can’t nail down more than that.”
Minerva smiles slightly before saying, “I thought you were some kind of private investigator, Mr. Krakuul? Though I suppose you never claimed to be a good one.” Satisfied with her banter, she frowns as she briefly contemplates the question, responding, “I’ve never met the woman and neither has Max. It seems that she and Father met some months back, but not long before our…little excursion…to Quillpond. You could say that she was the indirect cause of that. Max saw our Father’s time and attention shifting towards her and their dealings. He overreacted and was rash in what he did, but he knows few other ways to win approval and praise from Father. He won nothing of the sort after what…happened to me, though.”
Fred nods without looking away from his notebook, saying, “So she’s just as mysterious to you as she is to me, huh? Well, anyway, speaking of your father’s dealings, do you know if he would ever employ changelings to execute his plans, or would that run contrary to his personal beliefs?”
She scoffs at the question. “Father would employ whoever would make him the most money. Employees are nothing more than pieces and parts of a larger machine to him.”, she says, growing sullen afterward as she looks at Max and clasps his hand. “Lycans are different, though. They are monstrosities born of hatred and hunger. Unfortunate victims of a dire and dangerous disease that needs to be annihilated before it spreads further. Father would never employ lycans, which makes my brother’s condition that much more…complicated. He let the curse take hold in order to challenge the thugs Father was employing from the Docks. Another rash and short-sighted decision on his part.”
As Fred writes this down, he glances up to see Minerva looking down at her brother with a mixture of pity and mournful love. She holds the gaze for a moment before turning back towards Fred. “Were there more questions?” she asks, quickly wiping the mist from her eyes.
“Yeah, just one more, and I think it’ll be an easy one”, he replies. “Did Max make mention of why Meles kidnapped him or what he was planning to do? I have reason to believe that Meles killed a man named Ronen Canderspall, so any connection might help.”
Having recomposed herself, she replies, “No, not that I recall. I’ve never met Meles…and I don’t think Max had, either, before that day. They certainly didn’t seem to really know each other. I’ve also never heard the name Ronen Canderspall. Is that a friend of yours?”
As he jots down the last of his notes, Fred responds, “Yeah, he was an old colleague. An all-around good guy who showed me the ropes when I first moved out here. I was hired to find out what happened to him, which is the least I can do considering how well he treated me. I just hope I can repay the favor.” Snapping his notebook shut, he stands and returns the chair to its original position.
Before excusing himself from the room, Fred turns to Minerva with a look of reserved compassion. “Listen…a lot of people are upset with your father ‘cause he’s hurtin’ people they care about. From my perspective, it looks like he hurt both of you as well. Like you said, he only does what gets him more power and wealth, and I think you two've been collateral damage in that process. I’m not tellin’ you what to think, but maybe it's worth taking some time to consider who the real villain in all of this is. You two stay safe, and you know where to find me if you need anything” he says, leaving the twins to each other’s company.
Exiting the temple, Fred stops for a smoke as a feeling of conflict fills him. From every account he’d heard of the events of Quillpond, the twins without a doubt had done wicked things, and surely that was only the surface of it. Maxwell himself had tried to petrify a unicorn, a literal incarnation of good in the world. “Is someone like that even worth tryin’ to redeem?” he mutters to himself between puffs of smoke.
As these thoughts passed, though, in their place came the memory of Maxwell the same night as the showdown with Meles. Fred had found himself standing before him a beleaguered Max who was on the brink of death, wasting away by the second. However, in that moment he hadn’t seen a monster, but a young man who was scared and despite that had compromised his own ideals and well-being to ensure the safety of his sister. “Even if it’s buried deep inside of the both of them, those two are capable of feeling compassion, and if they’re capable of that, maybe they’re capable of feeling remorse as well”, he mutters aloud.
Taking one last pull of his pipe before snuffing out the cinders, the conflict in his heart still yet resolved, Fred makes his way back to the Celaeno house in the hope that the company of friends can better guide him.